Victor Morgan stood by, trying to avoid looking at anyone directly. His fingers fiddled with the cuffs of his sleeves. It was still early, and with it being late January, the air was cool. Being inside was awkward with people streaming in and out, even if he hid himself away upstairs. Out here, it was just as awkward.
He wanted to help out, but his mother was watching. She’d scold him for not letting people do their jobs and being in the way. What she wouldn’t say is don’t let anyone see you doing that. You’re a Morgan.
Standing around was irritating, though. He didn’t need to be here. Everything was taken care of.
He’d attended dozens of these sorts of events before, some in tribute to himself, like this one.
So why was this one more annoying than the others?
Because it was his birthday.
Although it felt more like he was the bystander, because all this wasn’t for him, really. It was for his parents. Their friends. The press popping by on the sidewalk trying to take photos of the event.
It wasn’t for him. Not now and never had been. It was a photo op for anyone involved.
“Victor?”
The sound of Sang’s voice calling his name lifted him out of bitter thoughts. She was here early.
He turned as she was finishing following the walkway from the rear of the house to the edge of the gardens where he’d stood.
Nathan and Silas followed behind her. He couldn’t see what vehicle they’d brought with them. With the driveway taken up by set up crew vehicles, they must have parked along the street and gone around. He hoped there weren’t any press by the gate they entered from.
Nathan and Silas wore similar dark slacks with light sweaters, Nathan’s in a deep burgundy, and Silas with a dark blue.
Sang wore a short but lovely gray skirt and a long sleeved white sweater. Together with the boots, it was elegant. Her lovely hair spilled out of a clip in a different way, with loose curls added to the locks framing her face. Did Gabriel add those in or did she do that? Those were nice.
The ensemble was missing something though. He couldn’t quite figure out what it was.
He smiled as she approached, reaching for her hand. “You’re early,” Victor said.
Her fingers interlocked with his. Her hands were warm. And soft. “We’re not in the way, are we?” she asked.
He shook his head vigorously. “No, stay. But we don’t need to be out here.”
Silas scanned the people moving around, the security guards standing by. “If we don’t need to help.”
“Nothing for us to do,” Victor said with confidence. “Too many cooks, you know.” He motioned to the house. With the others there and upstairs with him, it might not be so awkward. Before it had felt like the lone prince in the tower, too good to come down. His mother would want him out of the way at some point anyway, so he could make a grand entrance right when she wanted.
He ushered them toward the house. Before they made it to the porch, someone called for him from the drive.
“Victor!”
It was more like a summon than just getting his attention. His spine prickled. He turned, finding his mother looking at him from across the walkway. She was standing by a couple of party coordinators, but she wasn’t speaking to them.
Her tone and dead stare was obvious, she wanted him immediately.
Victor tried to hide his wincing. “Let me see what she wants. You three go ahead in.”
Nathan remained on the porch. “We’ll wait.”
He wasn’t sure if this made him feel better. His mother had been particularly colder by the day, making demands he stay near the house, rehearsing, being outfitted with a new suit he didn’t need since he had dozens.
She got that way when she was getting ready for a big event that he was involved in. He was treated barely better than the workers involved. Just another piece to set up so everything can be perfect.
While the others remained on the porch, he crossed the small back yard to where she was standing, acknowledging the coordinators with a nod.
Jasmine Morgan was regal perfection, wearing a bold red dress, accenting her slim body. Her gold and diamond necklace Victor knew to be made of paste. She’d wear real items tonight, but wouldn’t wear such expensive jewels throughout the day. Like most others in her status, she had copies made for daily wear.
Trying not to show his annoyance, he spoke, “Good morning. Did you need something?”
“Where are the keys to your car?” she asked pointedly.
Victor arched an eyebrow. “Did you need me to move it?”
The moment the words passed his lips, her eyes flared wide. He’d answered her demand with a question. And that was not something she wanted. She held out her hand. “Please hand the key over. We’ll take care of it.”
He hesitated. Technically the car parked nearby wasn’t his. It was Mr. Blackbourne’s with his own plate added to the back. She never asked for the key to it before, and her sudden asking for it now made him nervous to just simply hand it over. “It’s... I don’t...”
Again her eyes flared but her hand remained. She was going to hold her position until she gave them over.
This was serious. She wasn’t going to just move it. She would have allowed him to do so.
A raspy yet too familiar deep voice came from behind him. “Victor, don’t be a brat about it today. It’s unbecoming.”
Victor closed his eyes, his spine tingling but he bit his tongue before responding with what he wanted to say.
He turned as his father, dressed in a Kiton blue dress suit, a red tie at his neck. His hair was neatly trimmed and brushed back to perfection. In a way George Morgan was the perfect decedent match for his wife. He carried a tumbler with a Bloody Mary concoction.
“I was just offering to move it if that’s what you need,” Victor said.
“She doesn’t want you driving off with it before the party and then leaving it somewhere else,” he said. “As you tend to do.”
“It’s never mattered before,” Victor said, again cocking a brow. “I’d thought you’d want me out of the way until tonight anyway.”
Jasmine had retreated her hand and yet remained looking pointedly at him. “Please don’t go anywhere today. We’ve a long day and I don’t want you late for your own party.”
Your party, Victor wanted to mutter but restrained himself. He needed to get away before...
George leaned into him, an arm wrapping around his shoulder and he held tight. He spoke into Victor’s ear and pretended to whisper, but his breath smelled of vodka and he spoke loud enough for anyone standing nearby to hear anyway. “Don’t embarrass yourself in front of your little girlfriend.”
His mention had Victor turning his head, finding Sang had stepped off the porch. Concern etched into her face, a fingertip floated up to her lip, something she did when she was nervous. Silas and Nathan stood by, carrying similar expressions.
Victor wasn’t the one embarrassing himself. George Morgan attracted his own sort of attention. Half he got away with only because he was wealthy and the Morgan name still meant something in Charleston.
When Victor didn’t respond right away, George continued. “We can’t give you the new Zenvo tonight if you’re...”
“George!” Jasmine said sharply. “Don’t spoil it.” She looked to the coordinators and waved dismissively to them. “Allow me a minute, please.”
The coordinators seemed to disappear instantly.
Victor paled. He knew it had to be something. He hadn’t expected this.
A new car. Not just any car. A Zenvo. A high performance might-as-well-be a race car. Bright. Fins everywhere. It’d be too obvious, too much to drive anywhere in Charleston without drawing loads of attention.
If they were going to give him a new one, it was the worst one. He could never drive it. He’d be expected to. Not to mention he didn’t have his own car here. It was still in repair after it landed in a lake after an Academy job. What was he going to tell them?
Suddenly he felt a hand at his lower back, small and warm. Sang’s voice floated, polite, small and disarming.
“Victor,” she said. “Don’t we have a hair appointment in a little bit at the spa before tonight?”